Hermione was, needless to say, shaken up by the progression of events only a few hours prior. Even her young students noticed a change: during a third-year lecture, she attempted to transfigure a porcupine into a pincushion, only to watch in horror as it scurried around her desk, incomplete.

She was terribly distracted by thoughts of Ron and reliving her past. In some ways, she granted Ginny the privilege of being right—She had cared deeply for Ron during her Hogwarts years. It was certainly her naivety, however, that led her to believe that he would ever change enough to take care of her. Years later, she was far more mature, and possessed an acute awareness of just how childish he had always been. Any feelings that she had once had were now obsolete. In fact, she was still incredibly sore towards him, and wouldn’t mind at all if he disappeared off the face of the earth. Her loathing for him was strong and powerful, and clouded her right mind.

And, being notoriously proud and stubborn, she had a struggle admitting to herself that she and Ron had once been best friends. She insisted on reflecting on all the flaws of their friendship, rather than remembering all of the endearing moments. Times that he defended her to Snape, costing him detentions and points from Gryffindor; and from Malfoy, risking his dignity.

Now really, any boy who would be willing to spew slugs for hours on end for a friend would appear sincerely appealing.

But nothing was so worth admitting to Hermione. She was stuck in her ways that Ron was a heartless, brainless, selfish git and that’s all there was to it. Perhaps that had not always been the case, but she didn’t dare think about it or the times that they shared. That caused only grief. And in Hermione’s eyes, she had to think of things the logical way. This was as logical a solution as she could muster: ignoring the situation and past entirely.

“Professor Granger,� piped up a Gryffindor second year named Sally. “Somebody’s at the door for you.�

Shaken out of her state, Hermione turned towards the entrance. Sure enough, there was another soft knock. “One moment,� she called. As she struggled whole-heartedly to hold her pincushion stationary, she heard the sound of dinner bell. The final class of the day was finished. She dismissed the second years, watching in silent gratitude as they hustled and bustled anxiously to the Great Hall.

Once the last student had left, Hermione called to her guest to come in. Her pincushion scuttled off the desk and she dove after it, narrowly avoiding a painful crash with the chair. She reached her hand underneath her work station, only succeeding in frightening it into running for the nearest exit.

“Honestly!� she sputtered, lunging—This resulted in a head-on collision with a nearby cabinet. She let loose a very rare curse, finally remembering she had her wand on the desk. Fetching it, she murmured, “Accio pincushion!� It sailed into her hands, fidgeting mercilessly. Shoving it back into its cage under the desk, Hermione silently thanked Merlin that nobody had witnessed that scene. Righting herself, she found this thanks to be in vain. Standing before her was Remus Lupin, looking on with amusement.

“Pesky pincushions giving you grief again, Hermione?�

“Merely a poorly-transfigured assignment by a third-year,� Hermione lied, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. “Tried to catch it before it got out of my sight and popped up in somebody’s pumpkin juice.�

“How considerate of you,� Remus said generously, pretending as though he had no idea she was the culprit for the misshapen rodent. She nodded uncomfortably, as if to show that she was exceedingly grateful that she was finished with explanations, and began to gather the cages of disfigured porcupines, beginning to transfigure them back into their original state.

Remus took it upon himself to help her, starting with cages at the back of the classroom, sometimes reciting spells that would replace lost eyes or feet. Once they had finished, in complete silence, Hermione tried to busy herself with double and triple checking to be sure all the animals were in their appropriate state. Remus could easily tell that she was avoiding conversation, almost as if she was aware of what he’d come to talk about. So instead, he took the liberty of speaking without her consent.

“Have you heard the news of the engagement?� he asked nonchalantly, helping her to check the porcupines and confirm that they were in proper order. She paused, but nevertheless, nodded in confirmation.

“Briefly,� she stated simply, murmuring “Wingardium leviosa� at the animals and levitating them through the door. Remus followed, finding this conversation to be more difficult than he’d originally anticipated.

“Did you not talk to Ginny Weasley? I bumped into her earlier, she said she was looking for you,� he continued as he trailed Hermione and the cages down the corridor, wondering to himself what on earth she was doing and where she was going.

“Briefly,� Hermione repeated. Remus cleared his throat, taking a new, less subtle approach.

“Are you attending?� he questioned. This instigated a pause from the younger professor as they passed the Fat Lady visiting a friend in a portrait.

“How are you, my dear?� she asked Remus.

He bowed his head slightly in good manners and offered a polite grin. “I’m marvelous, thank you for asking.� The Fat Lady blushed slightly and giggled.

“You always were one of my favorites, dear.�

Remus was not given an opportunity to reply.

“Excuse me, what are you doing away from the Great Hall?� Hermione demanded in the direction of three fourth-year Gryffindor students who looked particularly guilty. As Hermione stopped to question the children, the cages continued to hover around her, bumping into one another and causing a series of porcupine squeaks.

“Well, Professor,� began one boy hastily.

“We wanted to finish up some homework,� finished the second.

“Yes, we were just headed to study,� added the young girl, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Homework? During supper? On a Friday?� Hermione pressed, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

Remus didn't bother to keep his smile to himself as he watched the three children fidget uncomfortably at her inquiry. “Well, carry on then,� he said to them with a wink, gesturing to them to hurry away before Hermione registered that he’d let them off the hook. Sure enough, once she had, they were safely around the corner in the direction of Gryffindor Tower—She turned to Remus, sputtering lightly.

“Professor Lupin—Out of turn—You had absolutely no right—� she stammered.

“Oh, come now,� he answered calmly. “You can’t fault them. They actually remind me of three Gryffindors I once knew, not long ago...One of whom I’m speaking to at this very moment.�

Hermione blushed once again.

“I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about, Professor Lupin,� she insisted.

“Hermione, this has gone far enough. Don’t you think you’re being a bit ridiculous about this whole Ron situation? Honestly, you’ve known each other for ten years, and been best friends for as long.�

“That’s not the point at all,� she snapped.

“You can’t erase the past,� Remus reasoned. “Believe me, I’ve tried.� Hermione turned to look at him, searching his face and probing his eyes, attempting to jump into his thoughts. His face seemed distinctly pale and the corridor cast familiar shadows across his cheekbones.

“Has Snape given you a Wolfsbane potion yet this month?� Hermione said in a hushed tone, continuing to walk towards the exit, the cages following suit.

“He’s due to give one to me this evening. Don’t venture off-topic,� Remus stated adamantly. Soon enough, they were on the grounds, and heading towards the edge of the forest. They passed Hagrid, who was heading to dinner himself, and said their hellos, keeping their pace.

Finally, Hermione bent low at the base of the trees, allowing the cages to land, and began to release the porcupines into the wild. Remus kneeled next to her and helped to open cages with a flick of his wand.

“So what makes you afraid to confront Ron?� Remus asked once again, hoping for some sort of straight-forward answer. He looked at Hermione sympathetically, hoping that it was enough to allow her to open up. Finally, she sighed.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m afraid of this quarrel growing more vicious, is all. I know that it would. And I’m not ready to have it out yet.�

“Not ready to lose an argument, you mean?� Lupin interjected. Hermione looked at him, her mouth open slightly in indignation. Fearing for a moment that he had crossed this delicate line, he half-expected her to condone him for suggesting that squabbling was her main concern. Instead, she sputtered, ‘I most certainly would not lose!’ and began to blush significantly in her outburst, turning her face away and continuing to open cases.

“It’s all right to lose an argument now and then, Hermione. Even more so all right to avoid arguing altogether. Sometimes one has to risk their pride to keep the peace. But the outcome is often worth the sacrifice.�

Hermione gazed at Remus and then found the scampering porcupines suddenly quite interesting as she averted her eyes. For once, she was struck speechless.

The reunion back at The Burrow was a long and lovable one. Mrs. Weasley had squealed happily upon seeing Ron walk into the house and had thrown herself at him, covering him in hugs and kisses and attempting to wipe smudges from his face, like any proper mother would.

Harry and Ginny had already gathered their things in the idea of staying at the house until after the wedding, which was only two months away. A fast and hasty wedding was nothing when Mrs. Weasley was on the committee, working like a House Elf to arrange it all before Ginny’s very spellbound eyes. However, Ginny didn’t do much complaining. She needed all the help she could possibly get. Planning a wedding wasn’t an easy task.

Harry and the family, minus Mr. Weasley who was at work, sat down to dinner that night, which consisted of a delectable beef stew, warm and crispy croissants, and chilled pumpkin juice. It was a delightful evening, despite the fact that every time Molly asked Ginny to pass the butter or a napkin, she burst into tears of joy at the sight of the band around Ginny’s finger that symbolized her betrothal. In addition to this, she’d blubber something about her youngest baby being all grown up, leaving Ron to comfort his mother awkwardly, passing her a tissue now and then that she noisily blew her nose into. Harry and Ginny would then exchange meaningful glances and secretly clasp hands beneath the table.

Harry often found it hard to not refer to Molly and Arthur as his parents, or the family in whole as being his own. They were the most loving people he’d ever met, and felt privileged to be considered a part of them. He couldn’t help but beam at the fact that soon it would be official, and he would have brothers and parents-in-law.

Looking across the table at Ron, who was gazing into his reflection in the butter dish to flatten his hair and wipe the dirt from his face, Harry grinned. This concerned friend of his would soon be related to him. Although, Harry thought, Wizarding law needn’t legalize anything in this case: Ron had always been like a brother to Harry, and this marriage would merely finalize it.

As a follow-up to the marvelous dinner, the family settled in the living room, going over wedding plans and searching Mrs. Weasley’s books for information. As she was deeply involved in So You’re Going To Be The Witching Wife Of A Wizard, she merrily began jotting down ideas of all sorts and seemed readily disappointed when Ginny insisted that she didn’t agree with her mother’s suggestion of having her wedding dress pink (according to the book, this symbolized eternity.) Ron went on to joke that she might as well go stark naked to avoid the nonsense, causing Mrs. Weasley to gasp, Ginny to blush scarlet, and Harry to busy himself with wiping his glasses clean pretending as though he didn’t hear.

While they were making a guest list, Mr. Weasley turned up and joined in the committee, thinking of all his brothers and sisters and great uncles and aunts and distant cousins (some twice removed,) resulting in Ginny calculating nearly a thousand and nine guests and concluding that was far too great a number.

As Molly was fighting to find any expendable members, she read past Hermione’s name. Ginny hastily, stuttering from the look of disgust on Ron’s face, insisted that Hermione would be unable to make it, and vowed to herself silently to fill her mother in later.

After Mrs. Weasley’s speech of disappointment, Ginny sent Harry a relieved look, to which he nodded in understanding.

After an evening of reuniting and celebrating, the group tired and decided to retire to their corresponding rooms. Ron said, however, he had some paperwork to finish up while the light of the fire was still burning, and said he’d be to bed later. The Weasley parents retreated to their bedroom, while Harry and Ginny remained in the hallway, saying their goodnights.

Ginny raised on her tiptoes to kiss her future husband, and they parted with euphoric smiles on their faces. “I’m going to try to talk some sense into Ron,� she decided, glancing into the living room and watching the firelight play across his face, which was contorted with concentration. Harry nodded and wished her luck, giving her one last kiss, and walking into Ron’s bedroom. Mrs. Weasley had conjured up another mattress for him to relax upon. Once he had climbed into bed, sleep hit him almost instantaneously, giving him no time for idle pre-sleep thoughts.

Ginny retraced her steps back into the room where Ron slaved over work, seemingly distracted. She sighed and approached him, taking a seat on the couch to his right. He glanced at her once her presence occurred to him, and gave a feeble smile. “Hey, Gin. Did you need something?�

“You’re on holiday,� Ginny insisted, stepping over to her brother and delicately beginning to lift the parchment away from him. He got hold of it from her easily, looking smug until she muttered, “Accio parchment,� and it went sailing into her hands. She tucked them safely in her robes. “Honestly, Ron,� she began. “I’ve never seen you so concerned with work before.�

“Well, this is important to finish if I’m to be away for so long,� he argued, looking rather unsure of himself. Ginny knew better. He’d taken a leaf out of Hermione’s book after being friends with her for so long, adopting the habit of working like mad to distract oneself from meddlesome thoughts.

“Ron, I think you should shape things up with Hermione,� she stated bluntly, causing him to look at her as though she’d grown an extra set of eyes. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she insisted, “It’s gone on long enough. Everybody’s bloody sick of it. Just admit you love her, for Merlin’s sake.�

This, if anything, inspired the reaction she least expected. Ron stood up straight, looking deeply affronted, and cried, “Love her? Are you off your rocker, Gin? Even I think I deserve nicer!�

“That’s an awful thing to say!� she cried. “Do you think you’re better than her?�

“No! I mean, yes! I’d just as soon date her as I’d date—As I’d date—Snape!� Ginny curled her lip in horror at this statement, and his cheeks flushed as he tried to compensate. “And—You know how much I hate Snape! So I hate Hermione just as much!�

“Bloody ridiculous,� Ginny cursed. In defeat, she sighed, and stood. “Not going to stand for her coming to this wedding, are you?�

“Absolutely not!� he spat, as if he had a bug in his mouth throughout the entire conversation that he had finally gotten rid of. He held his hand out. “Now give me my work back.� Ginny looked him in the eye, and after a staring contest that lasted for nearly a minute, she forfeited and handed him his parchment, stomping back to her room in a fit of uncontrollable rage.

Hermione settled at the staff table in the Great Hall, between McGonagall and Hagrid, who was downing his pumpkin juice and telling a joke to Poppy Pomfrey about a goblin and a troll who walked into a bar. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little bit at Hagrid’s antics. She reached across her plate to take her own goblet, noticing that each time she strived to get hold of it, it would hover out of her reach. Puzzled by this, she glanced down the table at Remus, who looked back innocently, grinning. She rolled her eyes and found that her goblet had righted itself. She took it and proceeded to sip at her juice.

Ridiculous, really. Lupin was doing all in his power to convince Hermione of his point of view. Since Hermione had begun teaching at Hogwarts, she and Lupin and become wonderful friends. And his advice was precious to her and greatly appreciated. And his kind thoughts regarding her and Ron’s situation seemed to be more logical than Ginny's had. His words did make a bit of sense. She never would admit this to him, of course. She knew that he wouldn’t gloat, but it was a matter of pride and nursed grudges. He was almost like a big brother figure, in a way. The way that Harry and most of the Weasley boys were. She admired him greatly.

So she found herself becoming half-consciously immersed in a conversation with Hagrid about his Care Of Magical Creatures assignment. It was an animal named the snidget that Hermione recalled reading about in Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them. Hagrid went on to describe how the rare species had once been used to substitute for the Golden Snitch in games of Quidditch.

“They’re quite rare, I’ve read, Hagrid. How did you manage to get any?� Hermione inquired curiously.

“Ah, I know a feller who works in one ‘o the sanctuaries. Nice bloke by the name ‘o Bassalbee. Lent ‘em ter me fer the week. Fourteen knuts charge. Generous lot.�

Soon enough, the four house tables retreated from the hall, leaving the staff to go to their own quarters or mingle about as desired. Hermione opted to return to her dormitory, where she could catch up on much-needed rest and search her thoughts regarding her anger with Ron.

Coming into her classroom, however, she found an owl hovering outside the window with a letter for her. Recognizing this owl as Errol (and marveling that he was still alive,) she rushed over and allowed him in. He dropped the letter onto the desk and collapsed. Sighing, she left him there to recuperate, and opened the parchment. She recognized the writing straight-away.

Hermione,

I understand that you don’t want Ron at the wedding. I respect that. He owled us and told us it’d be near impossible for him to make it, anyway. Unfortunate luck.

I’ve talked to Mum and Dad and we decided as a family to have everyone come back home until after the wedding. I understand it may be hard to get away when you’re teaching classes, but perhaps someone could fill in? They've got people to do that, haven’t they? Even Sirius could cover for you. Harry says he’s a master at Transfiguration.

I can see that appalled look on your face right now. Get rid of it, because you’re in desperate need of a break and you know The Burrow is just the place to spend it. If you don’t turn up, we’ll be out there to gather you anyway. Dumbledore’s already consented. We’ll be awaiting your letter back letting us know when you’ll be arriving.

Love,

Hermione perused the letter a few more times until she nearly had it memorized. Ginny made sense in retrospect of Hermione’s rare breaks. She supposed she did sort of need one. In any other case, she would have owled Ginny back and insisted that things were much too busy around the castle for her to take leave. However, if Dumbledore had consented for them to take her anyway if she resisted...Going the easy way might as well be the better choice.

Sighing in defeat, she owled back the Weasleys with a short but simple message: When would you like me to be there?